Let's Roll Out Something a Little New (vs. Grimm/Majors)
Oct 6, 2020 18:54:09 GMT -5
The Anarchist likes this
Post by David Hunter on Oct 6, 2020 18:54:09 GMT -5
Hey Heather…why is David in a gym?
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Oh yeah…she’s still not here. Normally I’d be rejoicing at her absence because it allows me the freedom to not be harassed constantly, but considering she’s been, allegedly in the World of Wizards since before David’s absence from The Game, I’m starting to wonder what’s taking her so long?
Not that I’m worried or anything…baka…
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Anyway…the question still stands: why is David in a gym? Like…a good gym too, not a shitty hole-in-the-wall gym that a lot of successful boxers or MMA fighters find themselves getting big at, like a warehouse that was converted into a multi-form gym. Legitimate fighters and athletes rep this place too so it’s not like it’s just some no-name facility that gets rich from drop-ins, no, this is straight-up a fantastic place and I’d commend its design and ability to help its clients a lot if I wasn’t so fucking confused that we’re here.
In Phoenix of all cities, a place David should never have a reason to return to unless it’s for a job.
Is he going to try and get bigger or stronger? It’s not like he doesn’t maintain it by being a consistent freelancer, mercenary, bounty hunter, for-hire employee to one of the biggest glorified mob members in the entire universe.
Is he trying something new to mix things up? Then what the fuck has he been doing for the last 14 years since he first met the Mistress of Most Evil all those years ago?
Why did he step into the one place he’s never stepped into before?
Why is he wasting his time here if he isn’t even lifting weights?
Why am I asking you?
“So tell me…how did you do it?” David asks.
David and his apparent cohort are sitting across from each other on different benches. Neither men has broken a sweat and they look as good as they did when they stepped in here (though given the hairstyle of the cohort I really wouldn’t call it ‘good’ but semantics and what not.)
Despite this, both men take a sip out of the same water bottle that has clear liquid in it but is too unclear to be water.
“Define ‘how’, ‘did I’, ‘do’, and ‘it’? In that order…” the cohort asks.
“Max…” David sighs.
Oh right. Max Daemon? Remember him? The guy who made an appearance ages ago at the Tampa show David was arrested at by the council? Or the guy whose trailer David snuck into a couple of year ago and met Hermione at? Remember that?
Is continuity dead?
Why am I even here?
“How: tell me what happened to allow you to win a World Tile in your debut wrestling match in a Battle Royal,” David says.
With another sip, Max allows himself the chance to answer.
“By being the smarter than the smarties, and tougher than the—”
“Motherfucker, you are not using Scrooge McDuck logic on me to get out of this,” David interrupts.
“Fine…I trained with a veteran who taught me how to be a professional wrestler with help from a girl who I liked at the time,” Max says.
Since Max can’t hear this, I just want to clarify that that last bit of the sentence is an understatement of the highest caliber. Dude was the love of his life but he's too much of a coward to admit it.
“Really? Cause I’ve gotten the latter figured out and the former could be covered between you, my dad, Nathan, and Nio,” David says.
Max shrugs and takes another sip from the water bottle. He passes it to David who shares in his own gulp.
“I guess I was just better than everyone else,” Max says.
David just raises an eyebrow, which causes Max to smirk before shrugging a second time.
“I had a good mix of telling everyone my journey as well as mixing it with monologue that allowed me to keep my head level,” he says.
With that answer, David flails his hands in the air before taking another, bigger gulp out of the water bottle. He hands it back to Max before wiping his lips with the back of his right hand.
“I’ve done that plenty of times but it’s nowhere near enough to get me to focus on the win,” he says.
“Huh…is it a balance issue? Too much of one versus too much of the other?” Max asks.
“I’ve tried all the balance I can. The only thing I haven’t tried is not including somebody who isn’t born and raised in the Prime Dimension,” David says.
“Solid idea. Maybe that’s where you’re losing them. Anyway, why are we in a gym?” the black-haired douchebag asks.
It’s David’s turn to shrug.
“It’s either this or a coffee shop, but it’s not like I haven't exhausted almost every other option,” David says.
“Apartment?”
“First one I ever did.”
“Back alley?”
“Just got that one covered.”
“Mysterious warehouse?”
“A few times actually.”
“A graveyard?”
“If you count seeing two people digging a couple of graves in a place that could pass as a scene from Exmortis 2, than yeah.”
“Checks out,” Max says with a nod. “A gas station?”
“Inside or outside?” David asks.
“Inside preferably.”
With a sigh, David shakes his head.
“I’ll add that to the list,” he says.
He takes out his phone and literally adds it to a memo document. What the hell is going on here?
“Good,” Max says before taking another drink from the water bottle.
Once it is depleted of all its liquid, he throws it back into a luggage back between his legs. He grabs another one out of it with the same clear but too not-clear liquid before twisting the cap off and handing it to David, who partakes in his own drink.
“Continue the explanation,” Max says.
David gives Max back the water bottle before continuing.
“You won a battle royal in your first wrestling match to become a World Champion. That’s what you did,” David says.
“The more that’s brought up the less cool or important it really seems. Yeah, I lucked out by beating some of the best at the time including this hot goth bitch who I really had a hard-on for, but it’s not like I beat anybody by pinning them or whatever,” Max says.
“But you did it. I can’t even win a fucking battle royal and I’ve tried three times with arguably better videos to get me in the mood. I wasted six months making the last one and all I had to show for it was ‘runner-up’,” David says.
Max chuckles before taking another drink from the water bottle.
“Back in my day I had to dish out three pieces of work, all with the same quality, just to get focused enough,” he says.
“Asshole, we are the same goddamn age. There is no ‘back in the day’ with you if it’s only five or so years ago. Plus, it’s not like I’m not still dishing out the same quality that you did just in one giant video,” David says.
“Maybe that’s where the problem is,” Max shrugs. “I was able to break mine up. You have to sit down and edit everything at once.”
David sighs and grabs the water bottle, enjoying himself some not-water for a bit. He hands it back to Max once he’s done.
“Fine…whatever…” David says with a sigh. “Did you: you did it. A literal rookie with no prior experience in a proper match walked into a wrestling ring and won the World Title of a promotion on the first night. A guy who is probably only second when it comes to ‘issues’ to me. A guy who opens the door naked in a dank-ass trailer park in Phoenix, Arizona. A guy who drinks and smokes a copious amounts of alcohol and drugs and still keeps uptight. A guy who carries a fucking sword and two pistols around with him wherever he goes. A guy who is literally named Max fucking Daemon.”
It takes David a bit to calm down before Max hands him the water bottle. David proceeds to finish it off, allowing Max to reach into the bag for another.
“For the record, my real name isn’t ‘Max fucking Daemon.’ First of all, the ‘fucking’ is silent and only used for arbitrary purposes. Secondly, Daemon is actually my middle name because it’s the one fantastic thing my shitbag parents left for me and it’s a lot cooler to call yourself Max Daemon than my real last name. Three of all, don’t diss Phoenix man. This place is chill and that trailer park has some pretty cool people when you’re not fucking with them or…just fucking them, really.”
“Alright, fine, I’m sorry I got a bit heated there,” David says.
With another shrug, Max uncaps the bottle and takes a sip.
“As for your inquiry: I couldn’t fucking tell you. Which is really the answer to a lot of these questions. How I gain my focus is a mystery to even me. Sometimes I have bomb-ass weeks that allow me to get a win at a show, usually after some coke and whiskey, maybe some lean if I feel frisky, but other times I have a shit week and I walk out of a show a loser,” he says.
They are interrupted by a third party.
“What kind of pansy-ass wannabe edgelord does lean?” the Texas drawl-laded voice asks.
“The kind who wants to chill sometimes. It’s a good cut-off for coke,” Max says.
“Newman, why are you here?” David asks.
Both men turn to see Newman, wearing a suit and also not breaking a sweat.
“I’m using this opportunity to get back into shape. I haven’t been able to break into a gym for years now so sorry if I’m desperate,” he says.
“In a suit?” David asks.
“Uh…yeah?” he asks but really says in a way that makes it seem like David asked the stupidest question in the world.
“You’re not even sweating,” Max says.
“I’m working out my mind you idiots. This little shit…” Newman says while pointing to David. “…needs me in tip-top shape and my mind is my best asset. Of course I’m going to work it out, and if by arguing with these douchebags in 90’s shorts and wifebeaters is a good way to do it than sue me.”
Newman looks in-between them, noticing the bottle in Max’s hand.
“Is that water?” he asks.
“No,” David and Max say at the same time.
“Gimme.”
Max hands the bottle over and Newman takes a fairly sizeable gulp from it. Once he is finished, he takes a sigh of relief before handing it over.
“Pardon me gentlemen, there is a female at 10 o’clock with skimpy shorts and a tank-top who is about to be slut-shamed,” he says.
With that, he walks off, leaving the two of them alone once more.
“Wow…that guy's a dick,” Max says.
“Yeah he got booted out of 95% of the independent promotions in the country and 50% of the ones in Mexico and Canada because of shit like that. I’d be more inclined to ask him for help if he was more successful,” David says.
With a shrug, they turn back towards each other, once against sharing another drink from the water bottle.
“Why not ask Nio?” Max asks.
“Same problem as me. He got to a point where he should have been better than he was, but his focus could never…well…focus,” David says.
“Nathan?”
“Bitched out and left a promotion by tossing the World Title in a dumpster after winning it.”
“Dick move. I’m assuming your dad is out of the question?”
Given that David just stares at Max like he didn’t even ask a question, I think that’s answer enough.
“Right,” Max says. “Didn’t Phil wrestle a couple times?”
“I thought about asking Mr. Silver but he only ever wrestled out of necessity than any commitment to it. Even still, he only stopped when the promotion he was in closed down,” David says. “Max, I can not stress this enough: you are literally the only person I can ask about this. The only other people who would know are my grandpa and my uncles and unfortunately they caught a case of the death.”
“Well why don’t you ask them?” Max asks.
“I’m willing to break a lot of rules and so some crummy shit,” David says. “Utilizing interdimensional travel despite the active ban on such by the Council? Yeah, totally. Interacting with the Forbidden Figures to try and get an edge on the other groups? Absolutely. Use a girl who loves me to my advantage to try and defeat a big-bad who nobody else seems to want to beat? Been there, done that.”
“Cold, but respect,” Max says.
“Exactly. None of that compares to utilizing something from another dimension to bring people back from the dead. Nobody has ever done that because the idea is so fucking insane it’s ridiculous…and Nio once used the Mirror Pool to make a double of himself just so he could keep wrestling and be part of the Game at the same time.”
Max lets out a guffaw before taking a sip from the drink. He hands it to David who does the same.
“Bet he got the pronouns mixed up and everything,” Max says.
David giggles a bit a that before handing the drink off.
“He did, actually. Even got tripped up on ‘doubly mared.’ Anyway, my point is that I’m running out of options here. If I can’t maintain focus enough doing this real life to try and maintain the wrestling one than maybe I’m in the wrong business,” David says.
Max shrugs.
Dude just shrugs.
“Thanks,” David deadpans.
Max shrugs again.
“Fuck it dude. It’s really not worth it. Don’t get me wrong, I get the obsession. I get the love for it. I get the desire to be the best and at the top, and the utter disappointment and anger when you can’t do it despite knowing you were more focused and definitively better than your opponent that week. I do, believe me…but at the end of the day, you’re out there in the ring saving the universe from utter collapse and complete dictatorship by a few groups of individual people. Fuck ‘em, ya know?”
Huh.
“Huh.”
“Why are we ‘huh’ing?” Newman asks, having made his way up to them again and taking another drink.
Neither man mention the obvious red handprint on his cheek.
“Revelations are a bitch,” Max says.
“Amen to that,” Newman mutters. “Go through a couple of those and you’ll be as salty as I am…”
“What’s up Newman?” Max asks.
“Right, I’m pretty sure that girl I just pissed off was the daughter of the owner and I’m going to assume that they’re minutes away from noticing we’ve been here for an hour and none of us have done any lifting,” Newman says.
The three empty the remaining bottle by passing it around for half a minute before grabbing their stuff and high-tailing it out of the gym.
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Oh yeah…she’s still not here. Normally I’d be rejoicing at her absence because it allows me the freedom to not be harassed constantly, but considering she’s been, allegedly in the World of Wizards since before David’s absence from The Game, I’m starting to wonder what’s taking her so long?
Not that I’m worried or anything…baka…
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Anyway…the question still stands: why is David in a gym? Like…a good gym too, not a shitty hole-in-the-wall gym that a lot of successful boxers or MMA fighters find themselves getting big at, like a warehouse that was converted into a multi-form gym. Legitimate fighters and athletes rep this place too so it’s not like it’s just some no-name facility that gets rich from drop-ins, no, this is straight-up a fantastic place and I’d commend its design and ability to help its clients a lot if I wasn’t so fucking confused that we’re here.
In Phoenix of all cities, a place David should never have a reason to return to unless it’s for a job.
Is he going to try and get bigger or stronger? It’s not like he doesn’t maintain it by being a consistent freelancer, mercenary, bounty hunter, for-hire employee to one of the biggest glorified mob members in the entire universe.
Is he trying something new to mix things up? Then what the fuck has he been doing for the last 14 years since he first met the Mistress of Most Evil all those years ago?
Why did he step into the one place he’s never stepped into before?
Why is he wasting his time here if he isn’t even lifting weights?
Why am I asking you?
“So tell me…how did you do it?” David asks.
David and his apparent cohort are sitting across from each other on different benches. Neither men has broken a sweat and they look as good as they did when they stepped in here (though given the hairstyle of the cohort I really wouldn’t call it ‘good’ but semantics and what not.)
Despite this, both men take a sip out of the same water bottle that has clear liquid in it but is too unclear to be water.
“Define ‘how’, ‘did I’, ‘do’, and ‘it’? In that order…” the cohort asks.
“Max…” David sighs.
Oh right. Max Daemon? Remember him? The guy who made an appearance ages ago at the Tampa show David was arrested at by the council? Or the guy whose trailer David snuck into a couple of year ago and met Hermione at? Remember that?
Is continuity dead?
Why am I even here?
“How: tell me what happened to allow you to win a World Tile in your debut wrestling match in a Battle Royal,” David says.
With another sip, Max allows himself the chance to answer.
“By being the smarter than the smarties, and tougher than the—”
“Motherfucker, you are not using Scrooge McDuck logic on me to get out of this,” David interrupts.
“Fine…I trained with a veteran who taught me how to be a professional wrestler with help from a girl who I liked at the time,” Max says.
Since Max can’t hear this, I just want to clarify that that last bit of the sentence is an understatement of the highest caliber. Dude was the love of his life but he's too much of a coward to admit it.
“Really? Cause I’ve gotten the latter figured out and the former could be covered between you, my dad, Nathan, and Nio,” David says.
Max shrugs and takes another sip from the water bottle. He passes it to David who shares in his own gulp.
“I guess I was just better than everyone else,” Max says.
David just raises an eyebrow, which causes Max to smirk before shrugging a second time.
“I had a good mix of telling everyone my journey as well as mixing it with monologue that allowed me to keep my head level,” he says.
With that answer, David flails his hands in the air before taking another, bigger gulp out of the water bottle. He hands it back to Max before wiping his lips with the back of his right hand.
“I’ve done that plenty of times but it’s nowhere near enough to get me to focus on the win,” he says.
“Huh…is it a balance issue? Too much of one versus too much of the other?” Max asks.
“I’ve tried all the balance I can. The only thing I haven’t tried is not including somebody who isn’t born and raised in the Prime Dimension,” David says.
“Solid idea. Maybe that’s where you’re losing them. Anyway, why are we in a gym?” the black-haired douchebag asks.
It’s David’s turn to shrug.
“It’s either this or a coffee shop, but it’s not like I haven't exhausted almost every other option,” David says.
“Apartment?”
“First one I ever did.”
“Back alley?”
“Just got that one covered.”
“Mysterious warehouse?”
“A few times actually.”
“A graveyard?”
“If you count seeing two people digging a couple of graves in a place that could pass as a scene from Exmortis 2, than yeah.”
“Checks out,” Max says with a nod. “A gas station?”
“Inside or outside?” David asks.
“Inside preferably.”
With a sigh, David shakes his head.
“I’ll add that to the list,” he says.
He takes out his phone and literally adds it to a memo document. What the hell is going on here?
“Good,” Max says before taking another drink from the water bottle.
Once it is depleted of all its liquid, he throws it back into a luggage back between his legs. He grabs another one out of it with the same clear but too not-clear liquid before twisting the cap off and handing it to David, who partakes in his own drink.
“Continue the explanation,” Max says.
David gives Max back the water bottle before continuing.
“You won a battle royal in your first wrestling match to become a World Champion. That’s what you did,” David says.
“The more that’s brought up the less cool or important it really seems. Yeah, I lucked out by beating some of the best at the time including this hot goth bitch who I really had a hard-on for, but it’s not like I beat anybody by pinning them or whatever,” Max says.
“But you did it. I can’t even win a fucking battle royal and I’ve tried three times with arguably better videos to get me in the mood. I wasted six months making the last one and all I had to show for it was ‘runner-up’,” David says.
Max chuckles before taking another drink from the water bottle.
“Back in my day I had to dish out three pieces of work, all with the same quality, just to get focused enough,” he says.
“Asshole, we are the same goddamn age. There is no ‘back in the day’ with you if it’s only five or so years ago. Plus, it’s not like I’m not still dishing out the same quality that you did just in one giant video,” David says.
“Maybe that’s where the problem is,” Max shrugs. “I was able to break mine up. You have to sit down and edit everything at once.”
David sighs and grabs the water bottle, enjoying himself some not-water for a bit. He hands it back to Max once he’s done.
“Fine…whatever…” David says with a sigh. “Did you: you did it. A literal rookie with no prior experience in a proper match walked into a wrestling ring and won the World Title of a promotion on the first night. A guy who is probably only second when it comes to ‘issues’ to me. A guy who opens the door naked in a dank-ass trailer park in Phoenix, Arizona. A guy who drinks and smokes a copious amounts of alcohol and drugs and still keeps uptight. A guy who carries a fucking sword and two pistols around with him wherever he goes. A guy who is literally named Max fucking Daemon.”
It takes David a bit to calm down before Max hands him the water bottle. David proceeds to finish it off, allowing Max to reach into the bag for another.
“For the record, my real name isn’t ‘Max fucking Daemon.’ First of all, the ‘fucking’ is silent and only used for arbitrary purposes. Secondly, Daemon is actually my middle name because it’s the one fantastic thing my shitbag parents left for me and it’s a lot cooler to call yourself Max Daemon than my real last name. Three of all, don’t diss Phoenix man. This place is chill and that trailer park has some pretty cool people when you’re not fucking with them or…just fucking them, really.”
“Alright, fine, I’m sorry I got a bit heated there,” David says.
With another shrug, Max uncaps the bottle and takes a sip.
“As for your inquiry: I couldn’t fucking tell you. Which is really the answer to a lot of these questions. How I gain my focus is a mystery to even me. Sometimes I have bomb-ass weeks that allow me to get a win at a show, usually after some coke and whiskey, maybe some lean if I feel frisky, but other times I have a shit week and I walk out of a show a loser,” he says.
They are interrupted by a third party.
“What kind of pansy-ass wannabe edgelord does lean?” the Texas drawl-laded voice asks.
“The kind who wants to chill sometimes. It’s a good cut-off for coke,” Max says.
“Newman, why are you here?” David asks.
Both men turn to see Newman, wearing a suit and also not breaking a sweat.
“I’m using this opportunity to get back into shape. I haven’t been able to break into a gym for years now so sorry if I’m desperate,” he says.
“In a suit?” David asks.
“Uh…yeah?” he asks but really says in a way that makes it seem like David asked the stupidest question in the world.
“You’re not even sweating,” Max says.
“I’m working out my mind you idiots. This little shit…” Newman says while pointing to David. “…needs me in tip-top shape and my mind is my best asset. Of course I’m going to work it out, and if by arguing with these douchebags in 90’s shorts and wifebeaters is a good way to do it than sue me.”
Newman looks in-between them, noticing the bottle in Max’s hand.
“Is that water?” he asks.
“No,” David and Max say at the same time.
“Gimme.”
Max hands the bottle over and Newman takes a fairly sizeable gulp from it. Once he is finished, he takes a sigh of relief before handing it over.
“Pardon me gentlemen, there is a female at 10 o’clock with skimpy shorts and a tank-top who is about to be slut-shamed,” he says.
With that, he walks off, leaving the two of them alone once more.
“Wow…that guy's a dick,” Max says.
“Yeah he got booted out of 95% of the independent promotions in the country and 50% of the ones in Mexico and Canada because of shit like that. I’d be more inclined to ask him for help if he was more successful,” David says.
With a shrug, they turn back towards each other, once against sharing another drink from the water bottle.
“Why not ask Nio?” Max asks.
“Same problem as me. He got to a point where he should have been better than he was, but his focus could never…well…focus,” David says.
“Nathan?”
“Bitched out and left a promotion by tossing the World Title in a dumpster after winning it.”
“Dick move. I’m assuming your dad is out of the question?”
Given that David just stares at Max like he didn’t even ask a question, I think that’s answer enough.
“Right,” Max says. “Didn’t Phil wrestle a couple times?”
“I thought about asking Mr. Silver but he only ever wrestled out of necessity than any commitment to it. Even still, he only stopped when the promotion he was in closed down,” David says. “Max, I can not stress this enough: you are literally the only person I can ask about this. The only other people who would know are my grandpa and my uncles and unfortunately they caught a case of the death.”
“Well why don’t you ask them?” Max asks.
“I’m willing to break a lot of rules and so some crummy shit,” David says. “Utilizing interdimensional travel despite the active ban on such by the Council? Yeah, totally. Interacting with the Forbidden Figures to try and get an edge on the other groups? Absolutely. Use a girl who loves me to my advantage to try and defeat a big-bad who nobody else seems to want to beat? Been there, done that.”
“Cold, but respect,” Max says.
“Exactly. None of that compares to utilizing something from another dimension to bring people back from the dead. Nobody has ever done that because the idea is so fucking insane it’s ridiculous…and Nio once used the Mirror Pool to make a double of himself just so he could keep wrestling and be part of the Game at the same time.”
Max lets out a guffaw before taking a sip from the drink. He hands it to David who does the same.
“Bet he got the pronouns mixed up and everything,” Max says.
David giggles a bit a that before handing the drink off.
“He did, actually. Even got tripped up on ‘doubly mared.’ Anyway, my point is that I’m running out of options here. If I can’t maintain focus enough doing this real life to try and maintain the wrestling one than maybe I’m in the wrong business,” David says.
Max shrugs.
Dude just shrugs.
“Thanks,” David deadpans.
Max shrugs again.
“Fuck it dude. It’s really not worth it. Don’t get me wrong, I get the obsession. I get the love for it. I get the desire to be the best and at the top, and the utter disappointment and anger when you can’t do it despite knowing you were more focused and definitively better than your opponent that week. I do, believe me…but at the end of the day, you’re out there in the ring saving the universe from utter collapse and complete dictatorship by a few groups of individual people. Fuck ‘em, ya know?”
Huh.
“Huh.”
“Why are we ‘huh’ing?” Newman asks, having made his way up to them again and taking another drink.
Neither man mention the obvious red handprint on his cheek.
“Revelations are a bitch,” Max says.
“Amen to that,” Newman mutters. “Go through a couple of those and you’ll be as salty as I am…”
“What’s up Newman?” Max asks.
“Right, I’m pretty sure that girl I just pissed off was the daughter of the owner and I’m going to assume that they’re minutes away from noticing we’ve been here for an hour and none of us have done any lifting,” Newman says.
The three empty the remaining bottle by passing it around for half a minute before grabbing their stuff and high-tailing it out of the gym.
